A Match Made in Hell - A Dallas Winston Fanfiction

1. Questions

"The more I loved her, the more I hated her. And the more she loved me, the more I harmed myself." - Marvin Gaye

My eyes grew wide, my jaw dropped. I stared at him, expressionless. Usually I don't have many feelings, or at least feelings that really hurt me, and when I do it's because of something that hits home to me.
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This hit home.
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"E-excuse me, what did you just say?" I asked slowly, and quietly. He put his hand down on the counter, and looked me straight in the eyes.

"That boy is a murderer. Don't believe me? Go take a walk on the other side of town and you'll find out real quick," he spat.

I looked down at my hands, they were dripping with blood. My eyes traveled down to the floor, witnessing a whiskey glass, shattered everywhere. They traveled back up to my hands, and I noticed the small but painful glass shards, jetting out from my skin.

"No... no. He couldn't be. Yo-you just don't know what you're talking about!" I cried. Suddenly, a pair of hands wrapped around my waist slowly.

"Hey, babe." He whispered into my ear, making me shiver. His voice sounded different now, almost foreign. It sounded insulting in a way.

"Hey, what happened?" He asked, wrapping my hand in his gently. I turned my head to face him, he was gently picking the glass shards out of my palm. My breath wavered, and I felt the large lump in my throat, choking me. I wasn't about to cry, no. It was just simply out of fear. His eyes met mine, and he stared at me, his once chocolatey coffee bean eyes now dark charcoal, furrowing his eyebrows.

"What's wrong? What happened?" He asked.

"N-nothing, can I uh, p-please talk to you, outside?" I ask.
He looked at me questionably, but agreed nonetheless.

As we stepped outside, he put his hands around my waist, spinning me around and pulling me slightly closer to his body. Warmth immediately radiated through my skin as he touched it, making me somewhat more panicked. He stroked the side of my cheek very gently, as if he'd break me with the slightest touch.

"What's wrong, hon?" He asks, his hot, cigarette breath pouring over my lips.
My lips tremble, I'm almost too scared to tell him, maybe because I feel like I would cause trouble. Too afraid that maybe, he'd hurt me too. I wouldn't have ever thought that he'd hurt me, but now, I'm not quite sure about anything anymore.

I find myself staring past him, lost in thought as he repeats himself once again.

"What, Alicia?"

I open my mouth to explain, but nothing comes out, at least not words. Instead, a whimper escapes my lips and tears start to dwell in my eyes.

"A-are you," I stutter, frightened.
He looks at me, anticipation wildly racing through his eyes.

"You killed p-people?"

The words finally escape. That isn't how I wanted to say it, but my mouth was moving much faster than my brain at the moment, and I was completely oblivious to what I was saying.

Suddenly his hands are no longer on my waist. They're tangled in his hair instead. His hand slides down to his mouth, and he just cups it like he doesn't want to allow the words to leave his lips. He's afraid, and so he says,

"Not- no. No I didn't! What the hell kind of question is that, LiLi? Why would you ask that?"

He's angered, and his eyes were enormous, filled with sudden panic. The words escaping his mouth were not matching his actions. His fingers were tangled in his thick feathery hair. He was pacing back and forth, and he kept looking down as if he was afraid to look at me, like the truth behind his lie was hiding in his eyes.